


Shipping Sterek

by Lumelle



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Deadpool Ships It, Deadpool being Deadpool, Getting Together, M/M, Stiles Stilinski Is So Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7581286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumelle/pseuds/Lumelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first Stiles didn't even really notice someone had been to his room. Or maybe he did, but he was too distracted to pay much attention.</p><p>This only held true until he came home to find Derek tied up on his bedroom floor and a man in a red jumpsuit sitting on top of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shipping Sterek

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stilienski](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stilienski/gifts).



> Written as a gift for [Stilienski](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Stilienski), who happens to love both Deadpool and Sterek.

The first time it happened, Stiles didn't even notice, really.

All he knew was that he came home only to find the window in his room open. This was strange, since he was fairly sure he had closed it before leaving for school, but it was possible he had just forgotten. Unlikely, yes, given that he had become very aware of the things that go bump in the night lately, but still possible.

And really, it wasn't like a closed window would have stopped the things that might have hoped to harm him.

So, the first time he simply closed the window again and went on with his life. Nothing to it.

The next time, the window was only ajar, but his bed was rumpled. Really, it looked like someone had wrestled on it, or something similarly physically demanding right on top of his bedsheets, which, not a mental image he wanted to have about his own bed. Certainly not when it didn't involve him. Still, nothing was torn or broken, so he concluded one of his so-called friends had simply stopped by for a nap for some mysterious reason, and decided to ask Scott about it at some point.

Of course, he forgot all about asking when they had to deal with a murderous water nymph in the school bathroom the next day, but he supposed that was understandable. Few things were as easy to remember as the sight of a creature with far too many teeth and the pallor of a water-logged corpse popping out of a toilet, and no, Stiles was not going to think too closely on how exactly that was supposed to work. All he cared about was making sure those teeth would never, ever be coming up from below when he was seated on the toilet, and really, that was a thought bad enough to give a man constipation for the rest of his life.

Sometimes, Stiles hated his life and everyone involved in it.

Not that the sight of Derek in a soaking wet t-shirt wasn't almost worth the trouble. Almost.

*

The next time Stiles came home to find signs of someone having been there, the someone was still there.

To be precise, there were two someones, which frankly was a bit much for a surprise right after a bad day at school. One of them was Derek, which wasn't all that surprising really; the guy had become far too familiar with Stiles's bedroom without even being invited in all that often. The part where Derek was actually tied up on the ground, well, that was quite surprising indeed.

Not the growling and baring of teeth, though. That was not surprising at all.

The other someone… well. It was a man, or so Stiles was going to assume from the body shape. It was kind of hard to tell, considering the man was wearing some sort of a skin-tight jumpsuit that covered his entire body, face included. Really, it rather reminded him of some of the superheroes in movies, except Stiles was fairly sure superheroes weren't supposed to be sitting on top of growling werewolves and playing video games.

Was that Stiles's DS? It had better not be his DS.

"Right." Stiles closed the door behind himself, dropping his school bag on the ground. "I'm sure you have a very good explanation for this." And honestly, he probably should have run screaming and never looked back, particularly since the man in the jumpsuit seemed to be armed to the teeth on top of having evidently wrestled down Derek of all people, but at this point, he didn't have the energy for that. "Though I'll warn you, I've had a very long day, so I'd appreciate very small words."

"Stiles!" The jumpsuit man sounded utterly delighted, looking up from his game before tossing the DS over to Stiles's bed. Well, it was better than the floor. Probably. "We've been waiting for you, cutie-poo!"

"Er." That was… what was he supposed to say to that? "And who is we, exactly?"

"Why, Derek here, obviously!" The man patted Derek's head heedless of his furious growls, and wow, if Stiles was about to die, that was a good mental image to take to his grave. "And me, too. Oh, right, I need to introduce myself! It's always so awkward for the writer when you don't know the name. Deadpool, at your service, provided you pay enough. Or Wade, Wade will do. Huge fan of the show, by the way. Love all the blood."

"Show?" Okay, clearly he was asleep. Or hallucinating. Or under some sort of a spell. Really, his life offered far too many explanations for such a bizarre situation. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, doesn't matter, not really, just ignore me. Just blabbing my mouth, you know how it is, can never get enough talking. It's a good distraction, you know? Keeps the enemies off guard until I blast their heads off. Good times, good times." The man jumped up, then planted a foot on Derek's back before he could wrestle himself up from the ground. To Stiles's surprise and something of a horror, this was apparently enough to keep Derek down, though he was now glaring at both Stiles and the man. Deadpool? Right, Deadpool.

"What are you doing here?" Maybe there was an edge of hysteria seeping into his voice, but at this point, Stiles liked to think it was rather justified. "What do you want from me? And why's Derek here?"

"Quite simply?" Deadpool spread his hands in an apparently innocent gesture, though Stiles couldn't help but notice this brought them rather close to the handles of the two swords crossed at his back. Katanas? He was pretty sure those were katanas. "I want you two to kiss."

"What?" Now his voice was definitely getting a bit too high.

"Kiss. You know, mwah mwah, lock lips, wrestle tongues, do a thorough tonsil examination, whatever you like to call it. And anything else you feel like doing, of course, far it be from me to stop you, I've got tons of popcorn ready back home, I'm all ready for the show."

"You kidnapped Derek and dragged him here so you could make us kiss?" This was a dream, had to be. Or a nightmare. Yeah, nightmare sounded about right. "What the hell is wrong with you?" And okay, it was probably not a good idea to be mouthing off at someone who was clearly crazy, but seriously, what?

"Many, many things. In this case, mostly impatience." Deadpool tilted his head as though deep in thought. "At first I thought I'd just go to the show crew and threaten them a little, you know, help them see the light and make it all canon. Then I figured they would just fuck it up anyway, I've lost my faith in them a while ago, so I decided a more direct approach was needed. And what better solution than leaving you a nice gift? Except the gift wasn't cooperating, of course."

"Wait." Now, he was catching on. "The signs of someone being here were because you'd left Derek here?"

"Well, obviously!" Though what part of that was obvious, Stiles wasn't sure. "Except he's very bad at listening, really, I gave him very clear instructions and he insisted on running away every time, so this time I decided to stick around to make sure everything goes well. The thanks I get for trying to give you two a little privacy!"

"Right." Stiles was just not going to comment on that, thanks. Instead, he looked down at Derek. "And you have nothing to say to this?"

"I've already been saying a lot." And indeed, Derek's expression was a frustrated mix of anger and what almost looked like boredom. "Believe me, talking isn't going to get through to this guy. In the end I figured I'd just wait and let you take care of it."

"He's been trying a lot, yeah," Deadpool said in a cheerful tone. "Even I learned a few new swear words, and let me tell you, that's not easy to do! You've got a very creative young man here, Stiles, don't let him go."

"Seems to me at the moment the problem is more with you not letting him go." Stiles rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was going to have such a headache after this. And of course Derek would decide to just sit around — well, lie around all tied up, but whatever — and leave it to Stiles to talk their way out of a madman's trap.

"Hey, I'm just being helpful! It's obvious you two like each other, you're just badly in denial, I'm only helping you see the light. You'd be so much happier if you could just get your acts together, I promise. Maybe run off together somewhere you don't have to deal with freaks every week?"

"At the moment I'm seeing only one freak." Yeah, he was definitely suicidal or something. At least it would be a way out of this, though.

"Exactly! And therefore I prove my point." Deadpool looked almost proud, for all that Stiles could tell anything about his expressions with the mask and everything. "Just imagine what someone like me could do if I wasn't so invested in your continued happiness and chances of getting laid with a hunky werewolf! Really, you're so lucky I'm the one who decided to get involved. There are some very scary people out there, you wouldn't want to meet them. Definitely not without your very own werewolf protector."

"I've been doing just fine so far, thanks." Stiles paused. "I'm sure it's not necessary to keep him down like that."

"Oh, I disagree. He's ruined my pants twice so far. Not that I don't appreciate the exercise, but I get enough clothing damage as it is, and it wasn't even the sexy kind of clothing damage." Deadpool shook his head. "I already had to shoot him to get him to stay down. He's a feisty one, I'll give you that."

"You what?" Stiles's blood ran cold. He immediately took another look at Derek, eyes going over his body and looking for signs of damage.

"Oh, don't panic, there wasn't even any wolfsbane involved! He'll be fine." Deadpool waved a dismissive hand. "I've been talking a lot, though. Don't you think I've been talking a lot? Man I've been rambling, it's like the writer has a word count to reach or something, this is getting ridiculous. Hey, you know what, I'm just like you! You get rambly sometimes, don't you?"

"Hey!" Stiles felt vaguely insulted, for all that he couldn't exactly deny it. He did sometimes start rambling, particularly when he was excited. Or panicked. Panicked definitely applied right now. "I'll have you know I have a condition." Which wasn't the best excuse ever, but really, if his having ADHD couldn't at least give him a bad excuse every now and then, what good was it in the first place?

"So do I! It's called cancer. See, you should be all sympathetic towards me! Isn't that what people do? Fulfill wishes for kids with cancer?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're not here thanks to Make a Wish foundation or whatever. For one thing you're not a kid, and for another I highly doubt they make a habit of forcing people to kiss. Or anything else." And Stiles was not thinking about that anything else, thanks. The last thing he needed was having Derek smell any sort of arousal underneath his very real panic, thanks. And damn, now he was absolutely thinking about it.

"I'm childish, though, I'm sure it'd count." Deadpool gave an exaggerated sigh. "Oh well, I suppose I'm not going to be smacking your faces together while making kissy noises, it's much better when you do it by yourselves. So think about it, okay? Because if you don't, I'll be back, and I won't be concerned about privacy then. Locking you two in a room until something happens might be a good approach. So, you know, here's your last chance of sorting it out all on your own. Be good kids and make me happy, okay?"

"Wait!" Of course, instead of listening to him, Deadpool stepped away from Derek and then dived out of the window, not even pausing in his stride. Stiles rushed to the window to look for him, but didn't see a single bit of red anywhere.

"A little help here?" The grumpy voice made Stiles look over to Derek.

"Ah, right." He rushed over to Derek. "Not used to you needing help, you know." Which probably came out a bit snippier than he meant, but it was true enough. Usually Derek seemed insulted by the very suggestion that he could have any need for aid.

"Yeah, well, this guy was prepared." Derek lifted his wrists and ankles, showing the rope tying them together.

Stiles was about to ask what Derek meant, but as he crouched down next to him, Stiles noticed what looked like burn marks around his wrists, right under the rope tying his wrists together. Rope that, if he squinted, seemed to have some sort of plant bits woven through it. "Is that…"

"Wolfsbane? Sure feels like it." Derek looked more grumpy than pained, though, so Stiles figured it wasn't too bad. "I could break through it if I had to, but since the idiot didn't seem about to try to kill me, I thought I'd rather wait for you to do the dirty work."

"You know, one day you're going to count on me to do something and you'll be disappointed." Not that Stiles particularly wanted to see that happen.

"Haven't been too disappointed yet." Was that a smile? That almost looked like a smile. Must have been a trick of the light, somehow. It wasn't like Derek was going to smile at Stiles.

"Could happen." Then, prompted by a rather grumpy lifted eyebrow, Stiles bounced up to his feet. "Right! Let me get something to cut this. The knots seem to be pretty tight." The last thing he wanted was to try to yank the ropes off and burn Derek's wrists even worse.

It took him a moment to locate scissors sharp enough to work through the rope, but Derek didn't seem about to throw a tantrum just yet, so Stiles tried not to panic too badly. Finally he managed to find the scissors and snip through enough of the ropes that Derek could pull his wrists and ankles apart, throwing the shreds of ropes aside in disgust.

"Uh. You all right?" Normally Stiles wouldn't have dreamed of asking Derek something like that, but he actually looked a bit shaken this time. Well, shaken by Derek standards, that was, which basically meant he was scowling even more grumpily than usual, but still.

"I will be." And wow, that was unusually sincere for Derek. Clearly he was worse off than he wanted to show. "It's not a bad burn, it'll heal soon."

"He said he shot you." And yeah, that was going to be in Stiles's nightmares for a while, a guy cheerfully informing him Derek had been shot just to keep him down.

"He also said it's not wolfsbane. I told you, I will be fine." And Derek still didn't sound as grumpy as he could have, so Stiles wasn't about to stop worrying just yet.

"I'm sorry." He wasn't sure what he was apologizing for, it wasn't like he had sent the madman after Derek and asked for him to end up tied up on Stiles's bedroom floor, but he figured he had to say something at least. If not for anything else, then for his thoughts of Derek tied up on his bedroom floor.

"Pretty sure you couldn't do this if you tried." Derek was sitting on the floor now, a morose look on his face as he examined his wrists. There were bad burn marks around them, and no matter what Derek might have said, they looked rather painful.

"Even so." Stiles didn't even pause to hesitate, grasping one of Derek's hands in his own to bring his wrist closer for examination. "It's — can I help in any way?"

"Unless you can make sure that idiot doesn't come after me again, not really." Derek shook his head. "Three times, Stiles. Three times he's hunted me down and dumped me here. And every time I fight him, he just laughs and heals it off even faster than I could. I don't know what he is, but he's a monster all right."

"Not sure there's anything I can do about that, though." Stiles paused, licking his lips. It was just nerves, though. No other reason for it. "Well, unless…"

"Unless?" Derek's eyes were sharp on him, Stiles knew it without even looking. He couldn't look, not right now.

"He did say what he wanted." Even though Stiles seemed currently unable to voice it.

"Right." Derek's voice sounded strained. "He wants us to kiss. But you don't want that."

"Don't you try to tell me what I want or don't want." Stiles was irritated enough that it took him a moment to realize what exactly Derek had said — or, rather, what exactly he hadn't said. "Wait. Does that mean you do?"

"I didn't say that." But as Stiles finally dared to look up at Derek's face, he saw the faintest hint of what was almost certainly a blush there.

"Well." It was probably stupid, but he had already said a lot of stupid things today, and frankly this one seemed less likely to get him killed than mouthing off to the strange madman invading his bedroom. "I didn't say I didn't want it."

There was a moment where neither of them said anything, staring at each other. A multitude of emotions crossed Derek's face, most of them expressed through minute movements of his eyebrows. Then, just as Stiles was about to back away and claim he had been joking, Derek leaned forward and caught his mouth in a kiss.

It was frankly less magical than Stiles had imagined, and yes, he was honest enough with himself to admit he had imagined such a thing, more than once. Derek's lips were slightly chapped, the kiss itself slightly clumsy, and as Stiles's hands went to Derek's arms Derek flinched away as Stiles's fingers accidentally brushed against the burns on his wrists. Even so, at the end of it he found himself on his back on the floor, Derek leaning over him, both of them breathing heavily.

"Um." Stiles licked his lips, trying not to be distracted by the way Derek's eyes dropped down to his mouth. "You — you're injured." He was, no matter how he tried to deny it. He could tell Stiles all he wanted that the gunshot wound he had apparently acquired was no big deal, but the wolfsbane burns were very obvious and very clearly painful.

"I will heal." Derek's eyes were wide and dark, and a shiver ran through Stiles's spine before he was again caught in a kiss, this one deeper and more heated than the one before.

And after that, well, after that came anything else they felt like doing.

Stiles was very glad his father wasn't due home until late.

*

And then they went off together and had tons of freaky werewolf sex and had the cutest little freaky werewolf babies and lived happily ever after forever and ever ramen.


End file.
